Lord of England has grand thoughts

Keith Duggan hears Clive Woodward talk in London about England's single-mindedness and determination to win

Bagshot. A genuine preservation of rarefied England amid the leafy, opulent fringes of the great capital city. Walking through the village in the evening time, you can hear the sound of spoons grating on china if you listen hard enough. The wildest time to be had in Bagshot is through ordering the hottest dish in the local Balti House.

There is not much sign of life in The Fighting Cocks and The Three Mariners have deserted their local. All is quiet. This is a place where affluent family folk return to slumber after the snarl of the city. It oozes politeness and consideration and an unspoken sense of self-possession.

It is a perfect haven from the uncertainties and speed of the fast world that lies just beyond earshot. It has a timeless feel.

Perhaps that is why Clive Woodward considers it the spiritual home of English rugby.

"Monday doesn't exist in my mind," the England coach remarked yesterday. "It's all about Sunday. The World Cup doesn't exist. This is a huge game. Nothing else matters."

He still has the light-footed stride and lean build of his playing days. It is often forgotten that Woodward was once something other than the baseball-capped figure going nuts in the stand.

Often forgotten that, before he created a whole new philosophy for the England game, he broke sweat and ran with some distinction. A slim figure of the Enlightenment in raw and prehistoric times in terms of the game. And a Grand Slam winner, no less. Take us down memory lane, Clive.

"To be totally frank, it is one of my strengths and weaknesses that I never look back. Winning that Grand Slam doesn't mean a great deal. It was a long time ago.

"I am more content looking forward to my job as a coach - to this game and to 2003. What happened way back in 1980 is way beyond my memories."

But it is impossible to completely ignore the past. It has that aggravating habit of repeating itself. Another Grand Slam on the line for Woodward's team, another visit to dear old Dublin, bawdy and merry and misty and the scene of the 2001 nightmare.

Those few days he has forced himself to revisit and analyse and now, he can speak of them without that much pain or fear.

"I just think we have more experience now," he says. " Even now I pinch myself at some of the things we did. Even going over on the Monday morning trying to cobble a team together after six months apart.

"All of those things - and you look back and think, crikey. Now, I know the strength is there - we are probably just one player short - at tighthead - of our strongest team, being honest. We just know that this time, come two o'clock on Sunday, we will be prepared.

"We have a good team and the world's best captain and Ireland will have to play well to beat us - which they are more than capable of doing."

Like his team, Clive has grown in stature. He has quelled his constant need to reinvent his teams, to out-do himself Sunday after Sunday. He has learned the lessons of consistency.

Perhaps that is why these times in Pennyhill Park have become so cherished by him. Once a 19th century country house, it has kept the mahogany veneer and added all the lush comforts.

His players are undisturbed and happy here. Snooker, golf, rabbits running wild across the grounds. He stresses that when they re-enter the real world at Heathrow today, all the work will have been done.

Friday is a day of complete freedom for the England team. Woodward and his staff won't even see them.

All he asks is that they breathe in and enjoy what is a tremulous week in the annals or rugby.

A once in a life-time deal.

"There's no point in trying to hide from it," he smiles. "We all know the significance of this game for all sorts of reasons. We do want to win the Grand Slam. And I'm not Stato, but I've learned that there have been five of these head to heads away from home and none have been won and it would be great if we could bury this myth that we can't play from home. Because it is a myth, I think."

Only four times have they lost since they went out to South Africa in the last World Cup. The other 30 days, it has been business as usual. But the absence of a Grand Slam looms over this week of total preparation.

The English press gently interrogates for answers as to what will make this time different.

Why now?

They want reassurance.

All Clive Woodward can do is stare down the barrel of this bright, white era and tell it as he sees it.

"The only (Grand Slam) game we blew was the one against Wales. The rest of the games that we lost, we lost fair and square to better teams.

"But this is a fantastic opportunity and I really hope it happens for the players. Because they do deserve it, they have been such a fantastic addition to the English game. The one little outstanding thing is this Grand Slam tag which they want to win desperately and I want desperately for them to win it as well.

"But it doesn't come easy as we have found over the years. And this game is probably the hardest of all the chances we have had."

Deep down, Clive Woodward wouldn't have it any other way. See him as he will be. Bespectacled and capped at the foot of the stands, a madding Irish crowd behind him. Lost in the fury of eighty minutes. As far away from Bagshot, England as a soul could possibly be.